A Snakey Situation
by Selena Snow
Summary: The bookshop has been quieter lately- a lot less customers, much to Aziraphale's delight. Yet when he stumbles upon a thing called "Yelp," he realizes that a certain snake might be the culprit of this phenomenon. Post-nahpocalpyse fluff.


**Back at it again with writing fanfics to cope with the stress of college enjoy**

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Aziraphale has many methods for keeping customers away from his precious books, but as of late, they seemed to be working much more efficiently, to the point where hardly anyone ever came to the shop at all.

This wasn't upsetting in the slightest to the principality, or shall we say _former_ principality. He liked to imagine that it was part of Adam's rebooting of reality— as though the young boy had set a magical ward around the hallowed walls of his not-really bookshop.

It was only when Aziraphale finally figured out how to look at his shop's online "yelp" reviews that he discovered the true source of the uncommon peace.

_"Was looking at a first edition Oscar Wilde when a giant snake popped out of the shelf! Never again!"_

_"The owner has a pet snake and doesn't take the time to put it away during operation hours. 1/5 stars."_

_"If you're afraid of snakes, STAY AWAY! There's a massive one, and you never know where it'll be! I asked the shopkeeper to get rid of it, and he said he didn't know what I was talking about! Not coming back!"_

It only took a minute for the angel to connect the dots, and now, he was delicately stomping his way up the stairs to his flat to interrogate the snake in question.

He knew Crowley had a tendency to forget himself. He also knew that Crowley was often possessive, though you would never get him to admit it. Aziraphale knew a lot of things about Crowley— you don't exactly know a demon for six millennia and then stop Armageddon without picking up a few tidbits along the way.

But this was simply too much. How had Aziraphale not noticed Crowley's harassment of his customers? He thought back on the past few weeks, his memory glossing all too easily over just how many times Crowley had asked him to fetch him a cup of tea because "you really make it the best, angel."

As Aziraphale reached the door that lead to the living room, he set his shoulders in determination. Whatever the reason for the demon's behavior, it must be stopped. He couldn't allow his not-really-customers to continue receiving such a fright.

When the angel entered the living room, he wasn't surprised at what he found. Crowley was dozing on the couch, sprawled out in a position that must have somehow been comfortable to him, a miraculous ray of light dappling over his peaceful visage.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers. The couch disappeared out from under the demon.

Crowley fell to the floor in an undignified heap. "What the heav—?!"

"Are you or are you not utilizing your snake form to terrorize my customers?" The principality didn't see any point in beating around the bush. At this very moment, he could feel that old sensation of righteous fury bubbling up inside him. It was an odd thing to have directed at his only true friend.

Said fiend was blinking up at him, slitted eyes sleepy and confused. "I what?"

Aziraphale huffed. He turned his ring round his finger in impatience. "I said, are you or are you not intentionally scaring my customers?"

A metaphorical lightbulb went off over the demon's head. "Oh! That!" he said. "Yup, that's me."

"Why?" The angel's teeth were beginning to grind together. Oh, he did hate feeling this way, but he couldn't help it. The casual way Crowley claimed responsibility for his mischief made his eye twitch.

And now he was shrugging. "Just a bit of fun," Crowley replied. "Gotta get up to something to take the edge off. I'm still a demon, after all."

Now Aziraphale's hands were turning into fists. "I'm aware."

Finally, it seemed the demon became wise to the angel's feelings. Crowley got up from the ground, snapped the couch back into existence, and sat down on it, casting his hereditary enemy a concerned look. "What's up with you? You look all…wound up-ish."

And just like that, the angel snapped. "Wound up? _Wound up?_ No, wound up is for when you leave your sheddings on the floor. _Wound up_ is when you drive too fast. _Wound up_ is when you forget to visit because you slept for an entire century. I'm far beyond _wound up._"

Crowley swallowed hard. "Yeah, got that."

Aziraphale stood there for a moment, fuming silently and not entirely aware that his wings had fanned out in a burst of holy energy, bolts of lightening scattering across each feather. Only when he saw genuine fear building in Crowley's eyes did he force himself to take a deep breath and calm down.

When baby blues opened again, a deep sense of guilt swept through the angel. "Oh," he gasped. "Oh dear me, I don't know what came over me. I—"

Crowley hopped up from the couch. "Angel, it's fine—"

"No, no," Aziraphale insisted with a shake of his head. "I-I was completely in the wrong to act like that toward you, my dear, and— oh, H-Heavens," he stammered, "my hands are shaking!"

The demon across from him made to decrease the distance, hands out and wings unfurled. Aziraphale reached out, too, desperately needing the reassurance that was surely about to come.

But then Crowley hesitated.

Those bright yellow eyes flicked behind Aziraphale. A dagger of pain stabbed through the angel's heart. His wings were still simmering with remnants of righteous wrath. He couldn't blame the demon's concern.

Thus, Aziraphale quickly tucked away his wings and ran to bury his face into Crowley's sturdy, cotton-wrapped chest. He sank into the embrace, breathing in the demon's oddly homey scent of smoke and amber and wood. Warm black wings folded around him. The pair stayed wrapped up in each other until Aziraphale stopped trembling.

Sighing heavily, the angel nuzzled his nose into Crowley's jacket collar. "I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I don't know why I got so mad, I just couldn't understand why you were doing those things, and you didn't tell me, and—"

"Shh, settle down," Crowley soothed. Long fingers ran through blonde curls. "C'mon, angel, let's sit down. We'll talk."

Aziraphale regretfully let go. He shuffled along to the couch, hands fidgeting uncomfortably as he did. He heard a snap behind him, and was unsurprised when Crowley offered a cup of tea on his favorite china set as the demon sat next to him. The angel took it gratefully, sipping on the soothing drink and trying to rummage through his muddled thoughts to figure out what had just happened.

He wasn't entirely aware of Crowley's gentle rub on his back until he said, "So…where d'you wanna start?"

The principality laughed. It wasn't a joyful sound. "I haven't the foggiest idea."

Crowley nodded. "How 'bout I tell you the real reason I was scaring people away?"

"The _real_ reason?" Aziraphale questioned, blinking. "What do you mean?"

"Mmn," the demon shrugged. "Didn't think you'd mind what I was doing, so I decided not to tell you."

The angel scoffed, "Of course I'd mind! You were spooking innocent people, and—"

"—and none of them were buying your books, right?"

It took probably a bit longer than was acceptable for Aziraphale to begin to understand what Crowley was implying. Those slitted eyes were giving him a look that said "go on, take your time, you'll figure it out." It was clear that the demon had no intentions of actually admitting that— _oh_, that he had been giving potential customers a fright to save the things most precious to Aziraphale, his books.

"You…"

Crowley relaxed into the cushions, eyes deliberately flicking away and arms going up to rest on the back of the couch in a faux-casual manner. "Meh, didn't want to hear you fussing."

Aziraphale smiled feebly. "Indeed. Perhaps opening a bookshop wasn't the best idea…perhaps I should've had a personal library, instead."

"Yeah, that would'a been the ticket," Crowley agreed.

There was a brief pause in their conversation. The demon's eyes had wandered back to Aziraphale, and the angel was doing quite a good job of avoiding them. He toyed with his ring again. He hated when he could tell his companion was thinking of something, yet not knowing at all what it was.

With a sniff, Crowley sat up and gave the angel a look. "So…what? What's been going on?"

Aziraphale's brow furrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"You don't exactly go around fluffin' out your wings every time I'm up to no good," the demon said pointedly. "So what's up? What made you do— _that?"_

Now his hands were grasping at his pants legs. "Oh, I…" Aziraphale swallowed. "It's nothing."

"Stop lying," Crowley snapped. "I'm the demon here, not you."

Blue eyes narrowed. "Hard to tell the difference these days."

_"Huh?"_

Huffing, Aziraphale stood from the couch and began pacing. They had never really talked much about this, other than the semi-wordless agreement that, yes, they were now on their own side and had sealed the deal by shaking hands and for some reason not letting go when they boarded the bus, took their seats, and chatted the entire journey back to Crowley's flat where, yes, the angel stayed the night.

No, they had never really talked about any of this. It simply was. And yet it rattled around in Aziraphale's head endlessly. Not so much the…well, new_er_ side of their relationship. That was the most welcome part of this post-almost-apocalyptic world.

The true issue was their lack of loyalties to Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale had always been of Heaven. Crowley had always been of Hell (though Aziraphale would argue that he still held onto his Heavenly tendencies at times). Now, well, now what were they? And who was to say that Crowley wasn't right about the next big one, that it would be all of them against the forces of Heaven and Hell combined?

Crowley watched patiently with folded arms as the angel in front of him walked a track already worn into the carpet due to its frequent use.

Finally, after much muttering, shaking of the head, and started sentences that would never get finished, Aziraphale came to an abrupt halt. Worried blue eyes found confused yellow, and he blurted, "Don't you think they'll come for us?"

"They who? Heaven and Hell?" Crowley asked. At Aziraphale's hasty nod, the demon snorted. "C'mon, angel, they saw us survive holy water and hell fire. I don't think either of them wanna touch us with a ten thousand foot pole."

"But— but what if they _do?_" the angel stressed. "Then what? Where can we go that they can't find us?"

Crowley got up from the couch. Aziraphale refused to look at him as he approached. But when a cool hand grasped his, how could he ignore his longest companion anymore?

The intense way in which Crowley was staring at him almost felt like too much. It was thoughtful, calculating, yet somehow warm and calming. Slender fingers slid into the gaps between his own slightly pudgy ones.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" the demon asked. His tone didn't give anything away other than idle curiosity.

Baby blues glanced away. "Since our trials."

An unamused grin settled onto Crowley's face. "I don't think what they gave me was what you'd call a trial."

"No, no I'd rather figured that," Aziraphale sighed. He settled for looking down at their joined hands. Perhaps Crowley had been right when he'd suggested running away to Alpha Centauri all those months ago. Then they wouldn't have had to deal with all this mess…then again, even if he could, Aziraphale knew he wouldn't change a thing that happened. Saving humanity was worth every trouble they'd gone through. If only—

"I think we need to get away for a bit."

The angel blinked up at Crowley. Had the demon read his thoughts?

"I hear a lovely little bed and breakfast in South Downs just got an availability for the next two weeks," Crowley continued. "Could go see the cliffs, visit those farmers markets with the little old ladies you like so much. A break from it all."

Unbeknownst to him, Aziraphale squeezed the demon's hand. "That sounds like a fantastic idea, my dear."

Neither of them planned on house hunting while they were on their holiday, but they did. They found a lovely little cottage by the sea with a greenhouse outside and a library inside, both ready to be filled with plants and books alike. The papers were signed miraculously quick, and it was moved into the very next week. Aziraphale had never been so grateful for that wily old snake.

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